


Death is a Business Man

by idontlikesand



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: M/M, Mention of Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-28
Updated: 2012-10-28
Packaged: 2017-11-17 04:55:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/547839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idontlikesand/pseuds/idontlikesand
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sebastian is a reaper, and he works for Death, a man named Jim Moriarty.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Death is a Business Man

Target Identified. Check. Gun loaded and cocked. Check. Take Aim. Check

Sebastian took a deep breath and placed his finger on the trigger. 

“It is now or never. Well... Not never,” he whispered to himself with a coy smile and a chuckle. No one could avoid Death forever. 

As he began to apply pressure with his forefinger, a sudden swirl of wind to his left made him hesitate.

With a sigh, he reluctantly removed his hand from the gun and swiveled on his knees to face the unwelcome disturbance. 

“Sir, I would appreciate it if you didn’t interrupt me in the middle of a job. You’re lucky I have cat like reflexes. Otherwise, things could get messy pretty fast. Is there a reason you’ve decided to interrupt me? Is there an emergency somewhere?” Sebastian glared at the man standing non - chalantly to his left, then rolled his eyes. The man certainly had a flair for fashion.

The newcomer was dressed in a perfectly tailored and pressed suit. Designed by Vivienne Westwood if Seb wasn’t mistaken. The suit was so black, it appeared to suck in any light surrounding it, like a black hole. Sebastian would sometimes joke that it was made from the crushed hopes and dreams of all of those that died. Whenever he brought it up, he would receive a look that said, If only you knew... followed by a quick pat on the cheek. 

The man’s tie had little skulls dotted across it, grinning maliciously, and his hair was slicked back and shining with too much pomade. It didn’t matter though. His skin was a pale at the moon and he was skeleton thin. Anyone would be hard pressed to find a better stereotypical personification of death. After all, he was Death. And Death’s name was Jim Moriarty.

Jim Moriarty was the perfect picture of darkness and business all wrapped up into one petite package of foreboding. Cold and Calculating. There were deadlines to keep. People to send to eternal damnation. With one touch, he could take a life, and then continue about his day without a care in the world. And to be honest, after millenia of killing, would you care either?

“Awww come now, Sebby. Do I really need a reason to come and see you? You do know that those cat like reflexes of your’s are why you are my little kitten, don’t you, Tiger?” 

“I guess not, Sir, it’s just that I’m in the middle of a job and...” Sebastian began before getting cut off.

“Besides, I wouldn’t surprise you like this if I didn’t think you could handle it. I don’t like getting my hands dirty, and cleaning up one of your messes... is well... let us just say, that isn’t on my list of things that I have an interest in doing today. Or ever. There is a reason I employ so many of you “soul stealers”, Seb” 

The words “Soul Stealer” were said with an air of contempt yet somehow also mixed with a touch of approval. It made Sebastian cringe just a bit. He wasn’t proud of his job, but Jim needed reapers to take care of the dirty work, and Sebastian wasn’t going to say no to a proposition from Death himself. 

“We aren’t “soul stealers”, Sir. We’re reapers. We collect the souls then give them to you to do whatever it is you do with them. If I was ‘stealing’ them, I would keep them for myself, now wouldn’t I?” Seb said through gritted teeth. He just wanted to finish this job, his 10th for the day, then go back home for a nice cup of tea and a bath before tomorrow list of names arrived at his door. 

As much as he enjoyed sniping, and the rush of adrenaline he craved surging through his veins, he was not in the mood to deal with Death today. 

“Ah see. That’s why I like you the most, out of all my reapers, Tiger. You aren’t afraid to stand up to me. I appreciate it. Everyone else is just SOOOO BORING! It’s ‘Yes Sir’ this, and ‘Certainly Sir’ that. Where is the Fire?! The Spark?! It’s not like I’m going to kill you or something!” 

Jim clearly believed that the last sentence he uttered was comic genius, because he proceeded to snicker to himself for a bit before continuing. 

“Anyway... You’re right. There was a reason I came to visit you today. It’s promotion time and one lucky ducky is about to get the big bucks. Can you guess who it is?” 

“umm... what?” Sebastian was getting more confused by the second. There was clearly something off about Jim today. His eyes were wild and he wasn’t his usual all business self. 

“You. You are getting a promotion. No more giant lists of random passersby to snipe from rooftops. You are going to work with me. Personally and directly. That means, the big kahoonas. The business men, the politicians, the people that I personally hate. Them. You will be at my beckon call every hour of everyday, and when I put out a death order, you sure as hell are going to finish them off cleanly.”

“Are you for real, Sir? Work for you? Basically be your right hand man?” Sebastian couldn’t deny that his interests were peaked. Souls and deaths of randoms was boring. Where was the fun in that? Reaping the news headliners, causing turmoil, that’s where his desires really lie. 

“OF COURSE I’M SERIOUS! Death is not a joke! So what do you say, tiger? Care to give it a whirl? It’s a once in a... I would say lifetime, but doesn’t that seem cliche? Well it’s a one time opportunity. Pass it by, and have fun reaping normals for the rest of eternity!”

Without another moment of hesitation, Sebastian scrambled to his feet and stood to attention. “Sir, it would be an honor. I accept.” 

“Good. Now lets find you something better to wear. No Colonel of mine is going to be seen in sweats. Ugh.”

“But what about my last assignment?”

“Oh him? Looks like he gets to escape death for the time being. He doesn’t realise how lucky he is. What can I say? I’m fickle. I’ll put him down on your list for later. Give it to me.”

Sebastian handed Jim his list of names. Jim took out a red pen, oddly close to resembling blood, and wrote the name of the boy he was to reap at the bottom. 

“Now, you only get to reap him if there is no one else left on your list. Seems fair right? If you’re lucky enough to escape death’s grasp, you’re can be punished with immortality until your reaper returns to you. “ Jim carefully folded up the list and placed it gently in the breast pocket of Seb’s shirt.  
“Better keep that safe” he whispered in Seb’s ear and gently patted his cheek. “Now let’s get moving. There’s a politician due to have a heart attack in 20 min.” 

Sebastian removed the list quietly and unfolded it to look at the name at the bottom of the list. 

It read ‘Sherlock Holmes’ in a beautiful spidery scrawl of red ink. 

“Lucky little bastard aren’t you, Holmes? Better use your extra time wisely. I’m good at what I do. and I’ll be coming for you before you know it.”


End file.
